


A Long Way Forward

by bugles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genderfluid Character, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 05:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugles/pseuds/bugles
Summary: “Call me Molly,” the tiefling says, sitting up once more. Their tail hits the back of the couch in a swift slap. “I want to try that one again."Vex doesn’t understand, but she also has the sneaking suspicion that Molly doesn’t either.





	A Long Way Forward

Vex wakes to the sound of frantic knocking.

It’s an insistent _rap tap tap_ that goes on far too long to be considerate. In all her years of adventuring, she has never been able to sleep through small noises. Her husband, however, holds no such qualms. He continues to doze beside her, murmuring soft sounds of contentment. It’s a wonder he hasn’t been ambushed on any of his treks away from Whitestone without her.

The knocking pauses for a moment. Vex wonders if that might be the end of it, until she hears two BANGS in quick succession against the poor doorframe.

“Darling,” Vex whispers, hand resting against Percy’s bare shoulder.

Her husband does not stir, but Trinket yawns wide and raises his gaze to watch her. At least _someone_ is paying attention. Vex puts a fingers to her lips and slips from the bed.

She descends the staircase, fingers clutching a small dagger beneath her sleeve. Enemies seldom knock, she knows this, but she has lived long enough to be wary of even those without selfish intentions.

“Please,” whispers a muffled voice behind the door. “_Please_.”

It’s a pitiful sound, and the voice holds an indistinguishable timbre. It’s just pathetic enough that Vex opens the door without her heart consulting her head. She can’t imagine her brother _not_ scolding her for the action.

The figure before her is drenched. She notices the horns first, curled and covered in baubles that might sparkle if caught in the light. Their lilac skin is dashed with scars long healed, and a tattoo of some exotic bird peeks its head up from beneath their collar. Their eyes, a dull red, remain downcast as water drips from loose purple curls.

It is difficult for Vex to determine their gender. She wonders if that might be intentional.

“Hello,” she says kindly, and blinks at her visitor’s grim expression. “Are you alright?”

The young tiefling shivers, running their hands up and down their arms.

“_Nethel_,” they say in quiet, clumsy elvish.

Vex is nearer fifty than forty now, but certainly not hard of hearing. She freezes at the implication of the word.

“I’m sorry?” She asks, breathless.

The body crumples directly into her arms.

She is quick to spring into action, pulling the young tiefling towards a soft surface. She calls for Percy and casts restoration with a few quick words and movements.

Their visitor does not seem much improved. Vex suspects it is exhaustion rather than ailment that keeps this one unconscious. Only time will truly heal them.

“They called me sister,” Vex whispers, eyes large and trained to her husband.

Percy puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

\---

In time they do wake, dizzy and hardly aware of where they’ve ended up. For the first ten minutes, they speak only infernal, which Vex can barely distinguish from the fits of coughing that arise with it.

They eventually rub their eyes, shake their head so that the gems jingle from adorned horns, and give Vex their full attention.

“I think I’m alright now,” they say. Somehow they still have the audacity to grin at her, revealing a set of pearly fangs. “Thanks, love.”

“Are you sure?” Vex asks, but the tiefling merely waves a hand in a noncommittal gesture. “Right, well… I am glad to see you're doing better. I’m Vex” She rests a hand above her heart. “What should I call you?”

“_Oh_,” they say. A faint smile appears, catching on one fang. “That is the question, isn’t it?”

Vex isn’t entirely certain how to respond to that. She tries a gentler approach, much more suited for Pike than her sarcastic disposition.

“Do you--” she begins, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you _know_ who you are?”

They laugh, or at least approximate the sound before dissolving into another chest-rattling cough.

“I’m whatever you’d like me to be,” they say, hunched over and grinning. “You’ve helped me. I have a debt to repay.”

Vex cocks an eyebrow.

“Call me Molly,” the tiefling says, sitting up once more. Their tail hits the back of the couch in a swift slap. “I want to try that one again.”

She doesn’t understand, but she also has the sneaking suspicion that Molly doesn’t either.

Molly grins down at Trinket who has pressed his nose against the tiefling’s knee.

“Oh hello,” says Molly, resting a hand against the top of her bear’s head. “You can call me Uncle.”

\---

Their visitor is young – not much older than Freddie. Vex’s half-elf side allows her to conceal her age, and Molly assumes they are within the same decade. She is, regrettably, too vain to correct them.

“You’re stunning,” Molly tells her, a lazy smile across their face. “Why are you with a prat like him?”

Vex snorts and leans her head into her hand. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

“Thought that was your type,” Molly says with a smirk.

“_Pelor_. You’re something else.”

Molly’s smile holds a moment longer before it falters. They take a deep breath and push their meal away with some reluctance.

“I have a message for you,” they say sourly at the exact moment that Vex says, _“_Don’t waste your meal, dear.”

Molly hesitates, impishness subdued for the moment. “It’s from an old friend.”

“Really?”

Molly clears their throat and waits.

“Dear?” Vex prompts.

“You’re going to be angry with me.” Molly sighs. They rub the bridge of their nose. “I should wait before I spoil the surprise, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, when you’re ready to stop teasing, do let me know,” Vex says dryly. “I’m on the edge of my seat. Practically dying.”

Molly smiles and gives her shoulder a squeeze before exiting. Trinket waits dutifully for them in the hallway.

\---

“Come out and play,” Molly demands, standing cross-armed beside Percy’s workspace.

“Shoo,” Percy says, quite amiably. “You know I haven’t got time.”

“Yes you have.”

Vex raises a hand to cover her smile. It’s a familiar sight, no matter which of her boys demands Percy’s attention.

“I’ll take your glasses,” Molly threatens.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“You couldn’t, because I’d have them.”

Vex snorts from the doorway, and Molly catches her eye, brightening. They motion for her to come closer, then mime some attempt at jumping Percy with a dramatic, strangling tussle.

“Still here, Mollymauk,” Percy reminds them, marking something down onto a scrap of paper.

Vex creeps closer, her years of practiced stealth concealing her. Molly winks, and after another moment, she has her lips beside Percy’s ear, and a hand against his neck.

“Come and play, darling,” she coos, and Percy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“_Oh_,” he says, and straightens. “Yes, well, I suppose.”

Molly positively cackles behind them.

\---

For all their wanderlust, Molly quite likes it here.

They parade the castle making friends with every guard and every servant. They’re assembling a coat, taking buttons and sequins from any who would spare it.

“Molly,” Vex whispers one day, playing with the ends of their hair. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Oh no,” Molly says quickly. “I’ll be gone once my coat is finished. I should be on my way.”

Maybe Vex misses her boys too much, but she kisses the top of Molly’s head on her way out.

\---

“Not that you’re not welcome,” Percy says a few weeks into Molly’s stay at the castle. “But why _are_ you here?”

“He’s not kicking you out,” Vex insists as Trinket yowls his agreement beside her.

Molly considers their answer as they toe off their boots and sprawl completely and carelessly on the living room rug. Percy clears his throat and tries again.

“If you’re running from something, we just need to know what it is.”

“A dragon, perhaps?” Vex volunteers.

“A rakshasa,” suggests Percy.

“Army of the undead.”

“Immeasurable guilt.”

“We’re all running from that one, dear.”

Molly turns over on the rug, then kicks their legs up like a gossiping schoolchild.

“Not quite,” they say, amusement in their ruby eyes. “Even if that _were_ true, there’s no need to worry. I’m kind of unkillable.”

It’s a joke, Vex thinks. But a sultry voice in her memory croons, _That's fun. _

“What was that?”

By the time she manages to get the words out, Percy has steered the conversation back into more polite territory, and neither of them pick up on her strained words.

Somehow Percy seems appeased, and Molly’s tail swings from one side to the other as they talk. Vex eyes it like a hunter’s mark.

\---

“Have you seen Molly, dear?”

“Hrmm? Oh yes, they mentioned something about joining the circus.”

“Very funny,” Vex replies, and Percy sputters indignantly as she leaves him to his tinkering.

Her search does not take long. She finds them napping beneath the sun tree, their back to the world and curled into Trinket's side. Her bear surveys the surrounding area, on guard against any enemies who would dare approach.

It’s a peaceful scene. Vex will only interrupt it for a moment.

“_Melnā__,” _she say in her sing-song voice as she sinks to her knees. She greets Trinket with scratches and face rubs. “Dinner is ready, my loves.”

Trinket growls happily and Molly’s eyes flutter open.

“’sha?” Molly mumbles, their voice slow with sleep.

Vex tilts her head. It doesn’t sound like Infernal

“It’s a stew, dear. Won’t you join us?”

Molly watches her hands rub against Trinket’s fur, then takes one and sets it atop their own head. Vex nearly roll her eyes, but she obliges anyway.

“No Gofibepo?” Molly asks.

“Another time,” she says, nails scratching lightly against the base of one curling horn. “Come along, dear.”

Molly sits up, stretches their arms widely. Vex leads them back to the castle, Trinket following in tow.

\---

The coat, once completed, is ridiculously ornate. It boasts a beautiful representation of Whitestone’s colors and décor. Pelor is featured prominently among the other symbols of Gods and Goddesses. Vex had always suspected Molly was a heathen unwilling to commit to one deity, but now she considers Molly may be committed to every one of them.

“I should mention,” Molly says, hoisting their bag over a shoulder. “It’s – well, it doesn’t matter, really.” They sigh, almost regrettably. “It’s ‘he.’”

“Sorry?” Vex asks, head tilted. “What’s he?”

“Me,” Molly says, the widest of smiles in place as Vex blushes a deep red.

“_Oh_,” she says, and her mouth twitches into a matching grin.

“It doesn’t matter,” Molly assures her, waving a hand. “I just wanted you to know. We could have had beautiful children together.”

“I’m forty-eight.”

Molly gasps.

“_No_.”

“Oh stop.”

“Please do stop,” Percy agrees, wandering outside towards the two of them. “Mollymauk, it’s been…well, not a pleasure, exactly. It’s been…”

Molly drops his bag, swaggers over and wraps Percy in a spine-cracking embrace. Percy pats the tiefling’s back, as awkward and stiff as the day Molly met him.

“I might miss you, crabby,” Molly says. “Be good to the Baroness.”

“Always,” Percy says. It is the only thing the two of them can agree on.

“Please come visit,” Vex whispers as Molly releases her husband and comes to wrap her in his arms. She holds him in return, smelling the perfume against his neck. “I’m afraid I’ve grown rather attached.”

“I will,” Molly promises. “I _must_.”

He lets go too soon, takes his bag of sentimental things, and walks away. Vex watches him until he is too far gone and too small to see in the distance. It’s only when Percy speaks again that Vex reluctantly steps back into her own mind.

“What is that?” He asks, brushing his fingers by her ear. “In your hair?”

Vex reaches up to where she normally clips her blue feathers. They are missing, strangely, but she pulls back to find a substitute in their place.

A peacock feather.

Her heart stops, then rapidly starts again.

“_No_. I thought—“

For some reason, she had expected something black.

She shakes her head, scolding her thoughts.

“He called me sister once,” she reminds Percy, twirling the feather between her fingers.

“Those two did share some things in common,” Percy admits, and Vex hums in agreement. “Fussing over that coat. How many cloaks did your brother have?”

“_So_ many.”

“Well, at least Mollymauk didn’t spend all our money on a completely new wardrobe.”

“I might have given it to him,” Vex murmurs softly. Despite herself, she feels her eyes begin to sting. She thinks of the boots of haste. She thinks of Simon. “…Do you suppose he charmed us?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Percy says, quietly optimistic. “Come on, darling. You’ve got plenty of moping to do and it can’t all be done out here.”

She feels his hand, warm and sturdy on her back. Vex shakes her head.

“In a minute,” she insists, rubbing an errant tear from her cheek. Percy nods and she watches him wander back through the doorway. From inside, she can hear Trinket growling happily in greeting.

Then she is alone, and blinking stupidly against hot tears.

There’s no reason for her to be this upset. Mollymauk was a stranger to her a month ago. He was a lost, wild traveler with too many secrets and a too-wild disposition to remain in one place.

She can’t help that he reminds her of someone. Her fingers reach for the jewel of her earring.

“If you sent him,” she whispers.  
  
This is stupid, of course it’s stupid.

There is no reply, no voice on the other end. But she does hear the faint, distant hum that tells her someone very far away is not yet out of range. They are listening.

Her mouth suddenly goes dry.

“If you sent him,” she tries again, voice stronger. “Make sure he reaches his friends, dear. They must miss him very much.”

Her fingers fall to her side. A few tears water the ground beneath her, and she turns stubbornly to head back inside.

The earth springs snowdrops behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Porter Robinson’s song, “Shelter"
> 
> [That's fun.](https://youtu.be/kTd4D8q5MvY?t=12790) \- Artagan, episode 112 "Dark Dealings"


End file.
